Yes, I want to be Gorgor.

From Create Your Own Story

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Some 1000 or so stripped elven bodies lay scattered about what now are flaming and smoldering ruins of a once beautiful town on a green hillside. Food, loot and territory gained. The urges are satisfied.
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The scene is telling of a visit by the vile. The faces of the dead paint a distinct picture that there was no fitting resistance.  
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You admire the day and the way the black and orange from the fires emanating from bodies slain, along with the the recently conquered Elven town's structures gleam of your iridescent skin. Reflecting on the day you decide it was a good day of plunder as well as the lounge expanding its territory. Do you head home or look for more of the same. Your army awaits your decision.
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You take a moment to admire the scene. Cracked and twisted bodies lay around fallen or burning homes of weak straw and stone no longer fit for life. The earth at your feet is disturbed by your hands and the sky seems to be as well. The heavens are filled with deep black smoke framed by a sky the color of a blood red citrus fruit. Your chest heaving and battle axe in hand; your a sight to behold. Your current toothy grin would frighten most creatures of your era. As would the mention of what you are, a Vile Tooth Lizardfolk. A humanoid creature of herculean muscles shielded by complex black iridescent scales.
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*[[You decide to bury the loot and food and head out for the hunt.]]
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You almost forget about the weak spongy creature in your left hand until your arousing daydream causes you to crack its neck. Its enough to bring you back to a lucid state. You taste the aroma of something bitter and sweaty. One last fresh kill should end the day nicely. The saltiness lets you know it must be grieving. You are delighted as how much better the soft ones taste when they cry.
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*[[You decide to send your scout to find a better target.]]
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You remove your recently slain creature's helmet and snap of its head. Tastier than the others you reflect to yourself on much tastier this other one might be. Then again you've about had your fill and the sun is bound to rise soon. You fear nothing but its wise to move on.
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*[[You follow the scent for one last night cap.(GG1_1)]]
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*[[Thoughts settle rather on you should find a nice spot to slip into lethargy. Just until you feel so inclined to satiate your need for chaos and blood shedding.(GG1_2)]]
{{BenightedStatus|Equipment=Iron Wrist and Ankle Bands, Battle Axe, Iron Buckler|Health=Normal|AP=10|Name=Gorgor|Class=Berserker Assassin|Race=Viletooth Lizardfolk|Level=Level 0|Sex=Male|Alignment=Chaotic Evil|Religion=Heathen|Height=9'0|Weight=320|Looks=Massive muscular build,large-red webbed head fin, massive claws, gold eyes, black iridescent scales...}}
{{BenightedStatus|Equipment=Iron Wrist and Ankle Bands, Battle Axe, Iron Buckler|Health=Normal|AP=10|Name=Gorgor|Class=Berserker Assassin|Race=Viletooth Lizardfolk|Level=Level 0|Sex=Male|Alignment=Chaotic Evil|Religion=Heathen|Height=9'0|Weight=320|Looks=Massive muscular build,large-red webbed head fin, massive claws, gold eyes, black iridescent scales...}}
[[Category: Benighted]]
[[Category: Benighted]]

Revision as of 09:18, 30 March 2011

The scene is telling of a visit by the vile. The faces of the dead paint a distinct picture that there was no fitting resistance.

You take a moment to admire the scene. Cracked and twisted bodies lay around fallen or burning homes of weak straw and stone no longer fit for life. The earth at your feet is disturbed by your hands and the sky seems to be as well. The heavens are filled with deep black smoke framed by a sky the color of a blood red citrus fruit. Your chest heaving and battle axe in hand; your a sight to behold. Your current toothy grin would frighten most creatures of your era. As would the mention of what you are, a Vile Tooth Lizardfolk. A humanoid creature of herculean muscles shielded by complex black iridescent scales.

You almost forget about the weak spongy creature in your left hand until your arousing daydream causes you to crack its neck. Its enough to bring you back to a lucid state. You taste the aroma of something bitter and sweaty. One last fresh kill should end the day nicely. The saltiness lets you know it must be grieving. You are delighted as how much better the soft ones taste when they cry.

You remove your recently slain creature's helmet and snap of its head. Tastier than the others you reflect to yourself on much tastier this other one might be. Then again you've about had your fill and the sun is bound to rise soon. You fear nothing but its wise to move on.

Status
Name:Gorgor
Health Normal
Ability Points 10
Score Level:Level 0 Sex:Male Alignment:Chaotic Evil Race:Viletooth Lizardfolk Class:Berserker Assassin Religion:Heathen 9'0 320
Equipment: Iron Wrist and Ankle Bands, Battle Axe, Iron Buckler
Looks:Massive muscular build,large-red webbed head fin, massive claws, gold eyes, black iridescent scales...
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